The Fullness Of Grace

Dark messengers run foul to my sleep.

As they bring forth their stark omens unto my mind to keep.

 Paragons of desolations climb into the darkening sky,

As the priest of ritual’s communion break down and cry.

Springing forth now they come from dimensions not seen

Coming now are these most foul spirits unclean.

Words they spew fetid into the shades of night,

 as all hope wanes, amidst the fading light.

Chains of bondage that rattle bold

fear of fears begins it hold,

Black masses rise from unmarked graves

as children of one light quietly pray.

(Man)

“Lord of heaven, God of all that is right

Protect us now from the darkness which consumes our sight.

Take pity upon us and grieve us not,

And spare us the second death which comes this day”

(God)

 “Oh little children, of a much hindered faith,

I see your suffrage and feel your pain.

Yet worry not, for I Am the great I Am

and because you loved only Me, I shall deliver you this day.

For it is by and through the fullness of MY grace

that you, my little children,

of this second death you will never taste.”

J. Allen Wilson © Four 2006